"We've had a puncture," explained Harold, "and we want to know whether you have a jack that we could borrow?"
The man shook his head.
"Never had no use for one," he replied.
Their faces fell; but as they turned to leave, the old man straightened up, and called out,
"Hold on a minute! What kind of car you got?"
"A Ford," Harold told him.
"There's your jack, then," he said, pointing to a pile of lumber in one corner of the room; "that there twelve-foot beam!"
"How?" queried the boy.
In reply, the man worked his arms up and down, as if he were operating a lever.